


Oathkeeper

by ultravioletleo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Braime - Freeform, Developing Relationship, F/M, I was real mad about this, JaimexBrienne, brienne deserved better!!, more chapters mean more characters!, post-episode s08e04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultravioletleo/pseuds/ultravioletleo
Summary: Brienne knows the good that resides in Jaime Lannister's heart and actions, even if he doesn't from time to time. But, she will not bend or break just for long standing affections she has held. There are choices to be made, and a war on the horizon. Jaime stands at crossroad for true redemption.“One good deed doesn’t absolve a life of bad ones.”“That doesn’t mean they condemn a life either,” Brienne replied softly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This might end up just being a oneshot, but that's truly dependent on how I feel about the rest of this season. My girl Brienne was so poorly written this past Sunday (5/5) that I couldn't let it go until I wrote something out. Enjoy!

Brienne lay in bed, her eyes boring holes into the stone ceiling. She would not chase him. Graveling was beneath her. She was a knight for godssake! Something in her stirred and Brienne looked towards the door. He didn’t even bother to shut it quietly. Perhaps...he wanted her to know? 

Jaime Lannister, kingslayer and oathbreaker turned friend and lover. These were all the things he was to her. More the latter now. Brienne tossed and turned to her side, eyes glued to the door. Her eyes shut tight in frustration. Brienne let out a calming breath and pushed herself out of the bed. 

Padding around the room, she found her housecoat. Tying it tight around her frame, Brienne searched for her boots. A pair were tossed aside by the hearth, but they weren’t hers. Deft hands of a seasoned cobbler stitched the leather with Lannister red and gold. Brienne slipped them on. She could feel the worn impressions in the soles, too big to be comfortable for her. But, they would do in the moment. 

Leaving her quarters, Brienne quietly passed through the halls. Deep snores or bubbly giggles filled the rooms as she passed. There was no sleep better or coupling sweeter than the days after a great fight. She knew of both now. 

Guards at their post gave her a courteous if not inquiring nod as she passed. She obliged with one of her own. Brienne made sure to make her way to the stables by way of the kitchen. Out of the way? Yes, but it would give her cover from the prying eyes that she was sure were there. Brienne felt a pang of shame, as if she were a maiden running off to see her forbidden love. Perhaps, there was a grain of truth to the feeling? No, she mentally shook her head. She was no doe-eyed girl pining after her love. She was looking for her equal. And gods, every man that ever existed after every war that ever happened slept with whomever he wanted after his victory. So why not Ser Lady Brienne of Tarth? 

Seven Hells, her title was clumsy Brienne thought to herself as the biting night air greeted her. Her eyes locked on to his greying golden head. He was saddling up his horse. She could see provisions in the saddle bags. This wasn’t a midnight ride to think and clear his head. 

His head perked up upon hearing footsteps approach, but Jaime continued his work diligently if not quickly. 

“If you’re going to ride off into the night for her, can I at least have my boots back? The castle’s cobbler died in the crypts,” she said dryly.

Jaime looked down at his boots on her feet, a small smile flashed across his face, “And here I thought my age was starting to catch up to me.” 

“You should wait until dawn, I’m not sure how you managed to ride from King’s Landing to Winterfell without incident but I doubt your luck will rise to the occasion again,” Brienne shifted her weight from one foot the other all while hoping to the old gods and new that her voice wouldn’t break. 

“Who said there wasn’t an incident,” Jaime met her eyes, “I may be a one-handed man, but I’m still better than most with two.” 

“For your sake, I hope so,” Brienne replied coolly. 

Jaime’s eyes narrowed, “So that’s it, is it? The afterglow of victory gone? We’re back to being the Kingslayer, Oathbreaker...and Brienne the Beauty?” 

“You must be mad to think I’m going to shed tears over you,” Brienne paused to collect herself after his jab, “I may have...affections for you, but there’s still a war to be had. One that you or I might not come back from. If you want to ride into the lion’s maw then move aside and I’ll finish the tying up the saddle.” 

“It’s more complicated than that,” Jaime moved towards her, “Cersei, she’s...a disease. I cannot be cured of her. She’s cruel and I’ve been corrupted into the same.” 

“Then why are you here now?” Brienne hugged herself, for warmth and strength, “Why did you ride days on end to come and fight the dead?” 

“I...I don’t know,” Jaime’s heart ached, “One moment, I’m arguing with Cersei about honoring her word to provide support and the next I’m here feeling ashamed and disgusted of myself stepping back into Winterfell. I crippled Bran Stark for her.” 

Brienne’s eyes widened. Jaime looked down, “I killed my own blood for her. I am rotten because of her.” 

“So why are you here?” Brienne insisted, “You could’ve been safe and warm in King’s Landing hundred of leagues away.”

“I’ve always done what I’ve been told ever since I could understand words,” Jaime began to pace, “I was obedient to my father, the knights I served, the kings I served and even to Cersei. She claimed that even though it was by mere minutes she was the oldest and so she knew what was best.”

“You weren’t always obedient,” Brienne said softy.

Jaime let out a short, dismissive laugh, “And what did that get me? The titles Kingslayer and Oathbreaker.”

“They might not know how you helped save the realm, but I do,” Brienne stopped his pacing, “So, why did you come?”

“Because...because it was right!” Jaime blurted, exasperated, “It was right and just and good. What was the point in living if the dead were coming anyway? Was I supposed to lock myself in the Red Keep with her and watch as thousands were slaughtered in the streets?” 

“No, you did what was right,” Brienne assured him, “You honored your oath. You’re a good man.” 

Jaime’s breath was haggard, “One good deed doesn’t absolve a life of bad ones.”

“That doesn’t mean they condemn a life either,” Brienne replied softly.

Jaime stepped back to his horse, now acutely aware of Brienne’s boots pinching his feet. He was tired, still sore and bruised from the Battle of Winterfell. He felt like a walking corpse. Brienne took a half-step closer to him, “If you mean to leave, you really ought to take your boots.” 

“I don’t even know why…” Jaime’s voice trailed off as he turned around, “I’ve known for a long time that Cersei loves herself first and everyone else third. And yet, I go back. Everytime. Every opportunity. I don’t even know I’m doing it until I’m nearly there.” 

Brienne could see the exhaustion in his eyes. She took him by the hand and led him a small bench by the stables. They sat next to one another, just enough space apart for them not to touch. She reached down to remove his boots, but his hand caught her own. 

“Don’t.” 

“I’m not going to keep them like some token,” Brienne scoffed.

Jaime smirked, “No, I want them back. Just not now. I’d like us to be barefoot amongst other forms of undressed.” 

“Oh,” Brienne’s face flushed. She was thankful there was only a few brasiers to light the area, which were yards away. She was used to men’s base babblings just not directed at her. If they were, she’d quickly show that she was not to be spoken to in such manners let alone touched. But, Jaime’s words made her whole body burn. 

Brienne could feel that familiar aching her belly. She quickly looked down to see his hand sliding up her thigh and under her housecoat. Brienne inhaled sharply and place her hand on his forearm just as he began to stroke her. 

“Do you want to lose that other hand?” Brienne asked with a wry smile. 

“If this is how I lose it, then it will be worth it,” Jaime murmured against her neck. 

“Not here,” she whispered. 

Jaime kissed her neck and then straightened up. He stood up with Brienne’s eyes watching his every move. Jaime led his horse back into the stable and tied off the lead. Jaime could see the light of dawn breaking through the night sky. He knew a stable boy would be out soon to take care of the horse. Strolling back to her, Jaime offered his hand Brienne. With a strong pull, she was on her feet. 

“Where to?” Jaime asked with a devilish grin. 

Brienne took him by the hand and began to make their way back to her chambers. She was no longer conscious of who saw her let alone who she was with. She turned to him outside her door, “If you stretched out my boots, you owe me a new pair, Oathkeeper.” 

“A Lannister always repays his debts,” Jaime replied innocently.

Brienne rolled her eyes, but smiled as she passed through the threshold with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff with porn? Porn with fluff? One of those combinations because I couldn't keep away from this idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's no longer a one shot. Enjoy!

The distance between the door and Brienne’s feather bed was about twenty paces. But, for the two entangled bodies approaching the bed, it felt like leagues. Boots came flying off, nearly hitting the window shutters. They were followed by Jaime’s doublet being undone just enough for him to pull it over his head. His shirt and pants were unlaced, again just enough, and with one swift pull Brienne’s housecoat gathered around her feet. She stepped backwards, her legs hitting the bed. Her piercing eyes, the true sapphires of Tarth, beckoning Jaime to follow. He did not acquiesce. 

Instead, Jaime took her in. If he was honest with himself the first few midnight meetings were made with such secrecy that Jaime didn’t take a moment to really appreciate her beauty. She was taller than him, not much taller but enough that he did crane his head back a bit to look her in the eyes. In these moments especially, something about that made a feeling stir deep within his belly. 

She was strong, both physically and in character. She honorable, but not naive. How could such a good person love him? 

Jaime’s eyes lingers a moment too long that Brienne began to lose her nerve. She reached up to cover herself, but Jaime caught her arms. He shook his head as he began to kiss her all over. Jaime started at her neck, alternating between kiss and nip. As he knelt, Jaime kissed the bruises from the recent battle. His hand thumbed over superficial scratches and cut, already partially healed. Brienne’s hands ran through his hair, coaxing him to continue.

Looking up at her, his eye caught a few marks, red and new high on Brienne’s chest. Those were of his own doing. He was never more grateful for Brienne’s high-neck leather doublets and chainmail. Jaime kissed his way back up her stomach and pressed his body against hers. Her arms enveloped him, warm and strong. 

“I must apologize to you,” he whispered breathlessly in her ear. 

Brienne turned her head towards him, “For what?” 

“I used the horribly cruel title lesser men have given you, Brienne the Beauty,” Jaime paused place a soft kiss on her lips, “I should never use hurtful words towards the woman I love, even when mad.” 

Brienne chewed on her lip, trying to stifle the prickly tears forming in her eyes. Jaime cupped her face and wiped away her tears with a calloused thumb, “You’re beautiful.”

“In my own certain way,” she added, used to such amendments about her appearance.

Jaime shook his head, “No, you’re just beautiful. Stunning, really.” 

Brienne kissed him hard and deeply. His tongue fought with hers as they lowered themselves onto the furs. She wrapped her arms around his neck, keeping him close. Jaime slipped his hand between her thighs, which parted eagerly. His coarse fingers teasing her and feeling how slick and warm she was. With each flick of his thumb over her bud, Brienne left out a soft moan. 

“Jaime,” she whispered. 

His eyes, darkened with desire, met hers. The way his name left her lips made him want nothing more than to stay in this moment. Jaime hummed has he continued to elicit breathless exclamations from Brienne. She pressed her head against his shoulder. 

“Will you...will you kiss me,” her words trailed off, a look of embarrassment washed over her. 

“Will I kiss you where?” Jaime teased out. 

Brienne’s eyes flicked downward and then quickly met his. Jaime grinned wickedly. Lowering his head, he took her petite breast into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the soft flesh made Brienne inhale sharply. Her hands found their way into his hair again. 

“Was that the spot?” Jaime asked knowing full well otherwise. 

“Lovely, but no,” Brienne stroked his hair. 

“Oh? Then where?” Jaime played coy. 

Brienne quirked an eyebrow, “Must I beg?” 

“Beg? No, never,” Jaime grinned, “Ask? Why, yes.” 

Gulping down a lungful of air, Brienne mumbled her request. Jaime chuckled, “What was that?”

“Jaime, please!” Brienne was flustered. 

Their first time was fueled by a good Dornish red and a brush with death. It was celebratory and affirming. Jaime was kind and patient. He kissed away any worry and murmured sweet reassurances. 

This time, Jaime was coaxing her out of her new comfort zone. If not teasing her out, “Well?” 

Brienne exhaled slowly, “Kiss me between my legs.” 

“As you wish, my Lady,” Jaime kissed her before dipping his head below her waist and then past her hips. 

Jaime had become a quick study of her topography. He knew nipping at her bud caused her hips to arch involuntarily or sliding his fingers inside her brought out a small gasp. Brienne whispered his name as she lay her legs over his shoulders. He paused to kiss her inner thigh, biting the fair flesh. 

The all-consuming release built deep within her belly. Brienne was at its whim and Jaime’s. In an instant, it cut through her like a hot iron. Her entire body shuddered. She was wondrously weak. Eyes closed, Brienne felt his lips brush against hers. 

Her hips rose to meet his and Jaime slowly slid himself into her. Pressing his forehead to hers, he was lost in her eyes. Jaime was searching for something, a glint of reassurance. But why? He knew his way around a woman’s body. Even the coldest heart melted into his arms. So, why did he feel so unsure? 

“Brienne,” he murmured, burying himself deeper inside her. 

She kissed him softly, “I love you. I am yours and you are mine.” 

Jaime’s head fell into the crook of her neck, his breath hot and ragged on her skin. Relief washed over him, a fear that he hadn’t known he possessed dissipated. Brienne had admitted to affections before, but those words weren’t the ones he wanted or needed. 

“I love you. I am yours and you are mine,” Jaime kissed her neck. 

Brienne’s hands ran down his back, almost in a desperation. The familiar pull of pleasure swelled closer to overwhelming the intertwined pair. Jaime braced himself with the headboard as Brienne’s legs wrapped around his waist. 

Her body stiffened as Brienne’s head fell back, overcome. The room echoed with uneven breaths and deep moans. Jaime felt her whole body contract around him bringing him over the edge. He buried himself in her one last time before finishing on her stomach. 

Jaime collapsed next to her. 

A long moment passed as heart rates returned to normal. Brienne lay snuggled against Jaime’s chest, warm in his embrace. 

“I think you should join Jon and Ser Davos,” she said quietly. 

“Am I a poor lay?” Jaime chuckled. 

“Is everything a joke to you?” Brienne looked up at him. 

He shook his head, “In truth I don’t know how to do this.” 

“What? Have a conversation?” Brienne teased. 

“You’re the only other woman I’ve known,” Jaime admitted, “and we haven’t had much conversation after fucking each other.” 

Brienne nodded after a moment, “It’s new to both of us.” 

“Why should I join them?” Jaime wondered. 

“I think they would benefit from your knowledge and experience,” Brienne reasoned as she pulled the furs over them. 

“I’m not a bannerman of House Stark nor have I bent the knee for the Targaryen girl. I am here to serve under your command and only yours,” he replied, sleep heavy in his voice. 

“You’re under Lady Sansa’s command then,” Brienne said with a grin as she closed her eyes. 

“No, only yours,” Jaime said as slung his arm over her side and drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the dead gone, the North and its allies turn their eyes south.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really touched by the reaction and support of this story! Thank you all! We're continuing to diverge from 08X04's story canon this chapter. Enjoy!

Morning came mercilessly early, or so it seemed to Brienne. She couldn’t bear to leave the warmth of her bed or the man beside her. Nevertheless, she was duty bound to meet with Sansa to break their fast and discuss the day’s agenda. Sansa had begun to regard Brienne as an advisor of sorts. She appreciated Brienne’s input, especially as another woman doing a so-called man’s duty. 

Brienne sat up, causing Jaime to stir. He looked up at her, bleary eyed, “Running away?” 

“Hardly. I’m meeting Sansa soon, to break our fast and start our day,” Brienne replied. 

“You eat with Sansa?” Jaime asked, puzzled. 

“We are developing a more frank rapport,” Brienne said thoughtfully, “I like her company as well.” 

“She’s definitely the brightest of the Starks,” Jamie mused, sleepily. 

Nodding in agreement, Brienne slipped on her house shoes and grabbed her coat from the floor. She came back to the bed, sitting on Jaime’s side, “Go back to sleep. I will see you later.” 

“You will see me later,” Jaime assured her. 

Brienne placed a light kiss on his lips and smiled. She sat with him for a moment, watching him drift off to sleep. His face was serene. 

Padding down the hall, Brienne opened the door to the shared bath house. Sansa tried to convince her to stay in the lord’s tower, but Brienne declined. She’d then be saddled with handmaidens and extra servants. That wasn’t her way. Her quarters were adjacent to the tower, close enough should any trouble arise. 

Thanks to the hot springs below the castle, hot water was never a trouble to find. Brienne turned the spigot and began filling her granite tub, inlaid with the floor. She perfumed and softened the water with oils and dried mint. 

Slipping into the warm water, Brienne let out a contented sigh. She passed a brush coated with oil wash over her body and through her hair. After rinsing herself off, Brienne gave herself a moment to enjoy the warmth and pleasant scent of the water. 

She removed the stone stopper, allowing the tub to drain. Brienne dried herself, being sure to pass the towel through her hair several times. Wet hair led to an uncomfortable time outside in Winterfell. Brienne dressed quickly, feeling as though she was already late. 

The servants, keen to her schedule, had her clothing and mail laid out for her. Quietly, she returned to her quarters. Jaime’s soft snoring filled the room. She hung her housecoat by the hearth and pulled on a pair woolen socks followed by her boots. Strapping Oathkeeper to her side, Brienne glanced once more at Jaime before meeting Sansa in her chambers. 

Brienne took the steps of the lord’s tower by two, scolding herself all the way up. She was never late to meet Sansa, especially since she was asked to join Sansa for each morning meal. 

Unable to wait for the guards to open the door, Brienne burst through. 

“You’re late,” Sansa observed, looking over some letters. 

“My apologies,” Brienne said regretfully. 

Sansa looked up, “Have you offended me?” 

“By my tardiness, my lady,” Brienne lowered her head. 

“There was no offense, merely an observation,” Sansa assured her, “Come, sit. Your food will be cold before you can enjoy it.” 

Brienne obliged and sat across from Sansa. She was in awe of the Lady of Winterfell, who had grown and flourished in her role quickly. Catelyn would’ve beamed with pride at the sight of her eldest daughter, Brienne was sure of it. 

“We are gathering in the war room this afternoon,” Sansa began, “Now that the dead are gone, we must turn our eyes south.” 

Brienne bobbed her head in agreement, “I am leading a training exercise with our remaining troops this morning.” 

“Good, the Northmen especially need to be accustomed to your leadership,” Sansa smiled, “I intend to name you Winterfell’s Master-at-Arms.” 

“But my lady, I have been charged with protecting you,” Brienne was flummoxed. 

“I am the Lady of Winterfell, I have more than plenty of people to protect me,” she argued, “Besides, I thought it might be a more suitable charge for Podrick. He can’t be your squire forever.” 

“He is a very capable lad,” Brienne smiled, “Still has much to learn though.”

“Then who better to continue to learn from than you? From what I understand you transformed him from little more than a glorified cup bearer into a man worthy of the title knight,” Sansa looked out the window, “Would you do me this disservice of keeping your skill and knowledge from the next generation of knights and soldiers?” 

“My lady I mean you no disservice, but I don’t know that they will be willing to learn from me especially in peacetime,” Brienne reasoned. 

Sansa looked back at her, “You single handedly defeated the Hound, that knowledge alone will give these men all the reason they will need. You are Ser Brienne of Tarth, are you not?” 

“I am, my lady,” Brienne nodded, “But what about Lord Royce?” 

“While Lord Royce continues to advise me, his interests will always lie with the Vale. Once Cersei is defeated he will return to the Vale. My Ser and Lady Brienne, I need you as does Winterfell,” Sansa placed her hand on Brienne’s. 

“My lady, I…” Brienne was stunned. 

“Please do me and the Kingdom of the North this honor,” Sansa smiled. 

Brienne quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, “It will be my greatest honor.” 

The two ladies finished their meals, idly chatting about what life would be once the war was over. They hoped for a winter as short as the Long Night. 

Sansa and Brienne parted ways, and Brienne headed for the inner courtyard to begin instructing her training exercise. Sansa lingered in her chambers a moment longer, enjoying the solitude and quiet. Being the Lady of Winterfell was a bigger undertaking than she could have ever imagined, especially since Jon wasn’t providing much input at the moment. But, Sansa grew accustomed to the role and rather enjoyed it. 

She met with Lord Royce and Maester Wolkan, who alerted her to the grave status of their remaining troops. Sansa made a mental note to bring this up at the war meeting. 

Ascending the stairs, Sansa perched herself under one of the covered connecting bridges. She wanted a moment to observe Brienne instructing the soldiers. Sansa was amazed every time she watched Brienne fight, whether in training or otherwise. She moved with such a deftness that Sansa couldn’t keep her eyes off of. Her moment of quiet was broken by footsteps approaching. She caught a glimpse of sandy colored hair and the sheen of gold in the winter sun. 

“Ser Jaime,” Sansa greeted, hiding her contempt. 

“Lady Stark,” Jaime bowed his head. 

“How can I help you?” she did not raise her eyes to meet his.

Jaime turned to watch the action in the courtyard. The clashing of steel and grunts filled the air. Brienne had the soldiers sparring with each other. She adjusted their stances and grips on upon the hilts of their swords along the way. Her eyes creased with laughter at a joke made by Lord Royce. Before long, she was no longer just instructing. As she worked with each man, she explained her motions and why theirs would lead them to a quick death.

Jaime smiled, which Sansa caught. 

“She’s the best knight in all of Westeros,” Sansa commented. 

“She surely is,” Jaime agreed. 

“I heard you meant to leave last night,” Sansa continued to watch the exercise. 

Jaime looked over to her, “Under the tutelage of Lord Varys now?” 

“He wasn’t the only one with spies,” Sansa replied, “You should know that.” 

“I am truly sorry for everything that happened to you because of Littlefinger,” Jaime said earnestly. 

“But not by the hands of your family,” her voice was ice. 

“Like I said, I’d do it all again,” Jaime said firmly. 

Sansa let an audible sigh escape her lips, “What do you need?” 

“Your permission to stay in Winterfell,” his voice seemed almost small. 

“You should speak to Jon about that, he is Lord of Winterfell and King of the North,” Sansa looked over. 

“I’m not asking so to offer my skills and knowledge to your brother’s war efforts,” Jaime shifted in place. 

Sansa looked puzzled, “Then why do you want to stay in Winterfell?” 

“I have offered my sword to Lady...Ser Brienne, and she has accepted,” he explained. 

“I see,” Sansa nodded, “You have my permission to stay, but know you’re not wholly welcome here. The remaining Northmen remember what your family did to mine. As do the lords of the Vale,” Sansa looked at him then to the courtyard, “If you hurt her, and if you hurt her for your sister I will personally have you killed.” 

“I do not doubt that at all, my lady,” Jaime said gratefully. 

Morning turned to afternoon, and the winter sun hung low in the sky. Brienne passed by Jaime as she made her way to the war meeting. 

“Ser Jaime,” she greeted politely. 

“Ser Brienne,” he nodded. 

“Are you joining the war council meeting?” Brienne asked. 

Jaime shook his head, “I might be a guest here, but I don’t think anyone would want me in that particular meeting.” 

“Understandably,” Brienne nodded, “I must go, but will you join me for supper?” 

“Of course,” Jaime smiled. 

He caught her hand in his and held it for a moment. Brienne squeezed it tight before letting go and parting ways with him. 

She joined Sansa at the table and gave her a short nod. Brienne watched as the tokens for half of their collective army were swept off the map. Their enemy grew stronger, flushed with cutthroats and a mad pirate. 

“So, where does that leave us?” Daenerys asked. 

“We are nearly one-for-one in terms of soldiers, but Euron Greyjoy’s fleet could tip the scales in Cersei’s favor,” Varys replied solemnly. 

“Cersei’s army is mostly from the Golden Company, are they not?” the Dragon Queen asked, “They have no personal stake...no driving cause to fight for her.” 

Tyrion placed a token representing the aforementioned army next to King’s Landing, “Yes, but gold outweighs morals twofold every time.” 

“However, she’s losing the support of the other lords of Westeros,” Varys interjected, “In droves, by the day.” 

“Who will take up banners for us?” Jon asked. 

“The new prince of Dorne, whose fleet will be sailing up the Narrow Sea to cut off the rogue Greyjoy’s fleet in Blackwater Bay” Varys answered, “Plus, Yara Greyjoy has squarely taken back the Iron Islands.” 

Daenerys nodded, “All right, I want our troops ready for marching orders.” 

“They need rest first,” Sansa spoke up, “The Northernmen and the soldiers of the Vale are all wounded in one way or another. Your subjects, your Grace. Lord Royce and Maester Wolkan can attest to this.” 

“How long do you suggest?” Daenerys asked impatiently. 

“A fortnight,” Sansa suggested. 

“That is a lifetime in a war,” Jon interjected, “We can spare a week’s time at the most.” 

“Then a week it is,” the Queen nodded, “In the meantime, Lord Varys can you gather some more whispers about the Golden Company and the state of King’s Landing?” 

“Yes, your Grace,” the Spider nodded. 

“So we are in agreement then?” Tyrion asked. 

“What of the Kingslayer? Has your brother come into the fold?” Jon asked. 

“Ser Jaime,” Brienne corrected before she could stop herself. 

The entire room’s focus turned to the Knight from Tarth. Sansa stepped forward, “Ser Jaime will be staying in Winterfell as my guest and to help secure her defenses.” 

“I’m not leaving Jaime Lannister alone with you,” Jon turned to Sansa. 

“Well you can’t just stay here,” Sansa replied, well measured, “He has sworn himself to Ser Brienne, who I trust with my life and will need help as Winterfell’s Master-at-Arms.” 

Again, the eyes of the room found themselves upon Brienne. Arya grinned, “Winterfell will be the safest castle in all of Westeros.” 

“A fitting title,” Tyrion agreed as the room filled with applause. 

Daenerys cleared her throat once the clapping died down, “We are in agreement then?” 

The arrangement was confirmed with silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to take a break over the weekend, mainly because I want to see what Sunday's (5/12) episode holds and how much I'm probably going to want to change. Enjoy!

Night encompassed Winterfell and the great hall was buzzing with conversation and the sounds of good food and drink. Daenerys wanted to unveil their strategy to the officers while showing a united front with everyone from the war meeting at the high table. This wasn’t the quiet meal Brienne wanted with Jaime. 

They sat across from one another with Podrick to the left of Brienne. As the jovial conversations twisted and turned with asides and tangents, the two knights shared stolen glances. Electricity sparked between them when their fingers brushed against one another as they filled each other’s goblets. 

After the pomp and circumstance of the unveiling of the war plan, Tyrion made his way to his brother. 

“Ah, little brother,” Jaime raised his glass. 

“One-handed brother, your left hand must be working double time these days,” Tyrion grinned. 

“No more than yours,” Jaime shot back with a chuckle. 

Tyrion laughed in earnest, “Come, walk with me. Talk with me. We haven’t had a good chat since the night we all thought we were going to die.” 

“I’m eating,” Jaime pointed out. 

“Your plate is empty. You’re not eating anymore,” Tyrion observed. 

“What if I wanted more?” Jaime asked, he had other intentions for the evening. 

“You shouldn’t eat too much. You’re not as spry as you used to be,” Tyrion said patting his stomach. 

Jaime shook his head, amused, “You know, people only use spry to describe the old.” 

“I know, that’s why I used it,” Tyrion replied flatly. 

Brienne and Pod snickered. Jaime turned to look at them, but it didn’t stop them. 

Sighing, Jaime stood up, “There’s no stopping you is there?” 

“Not once I put my mind to something,” Tyrion said, patting his brother’s side as they walked off. 

The two Lannisters made their way to Tyrion’s quarters, planting themselves in front of the fireplace with a pitcher of wine between the two of them. 

“What do you think of the strategy?” the younger Lannister asked after a moment. 

“I think once the Golden Company sees those dragons, they’ll turn tail,” the elder Lannister replied, “Giving the troops a moment of respite will also raise morale and keep them from feeling like chattel.” 

“That was Sansa’s suggestion,” Tyrion explained, pride in his voice, “Lately, I’ve been plagued by the thought that I’m not as clever as I think I am. Surely, I’m more clever than say...your average blue blooded lord. But, when it comes to our sister I can’t help but think I’ve met my match.” 

Jaime took a long sip of wine, “She’s truly our father’s daughter.” 

Tyrion nodded solemnly, “She is indeed.” 

“I don’t know that we’ll make it out of this,” Jaime paused, “But it won’t be for a lack of your tactical skills.” 

“I certainly hope so,” Tyrion stared into the fire. 

“So, was this the conversation you desperately needed to have with me?” Jaime asked. 

Tyrion poured himself some more wine, “No, I’m keeping you here so you don’t put a baby in Ser Brienne’s belly before this war is won. We’re going to need her that’s for certain.” 

“How is that any of your concern?” Jaime blinked in astonishment. 

“Your nightly visits haven’t been as hidden as you thought,” Tyrion shrugged, “She might be the greatest knight in Westeros but I can’t say she’ll be as capable once she’s round with child.” 

“Don’t be so sure, that woman is capable of anything,” Jaime replied, the thought was preposterous to him. 

Tyrion sat up, “Oh gods, you’re in love with her.” 

“What?” Jaime’s focus was conspicuously on his goblet. 

“I mean, I had a feeling,” Tyrion began, “The way you look at her. You didn’t even look at Cersei like that. This is love, truly and deeply. I’ve only seen it a handful of times, but that was enough to know what it looks like.” 

Jaime smiled and looked over to his brother, “I do.” 

“Does she reciprocate these feelings?” Tyrion asked, eager to know. 

“She does,” Jaime confirmed, “Even if she didn’t, I’d still probably find myself in the North. Just to catch a glance at her like some lovesick boy.” 

“Oh how the tides have changed,” Tyrion grinned, “I never thought I’d see the day where you would be the one to swoon.” 

“That’s information you can keep to yourself, certainly,” Jaime filled their goblets. 

“No one shall hear of it,” the younger brother promised, “And you’re happy?” 

“The happiest I’ve been in a long time. No confusion, or conflict, just happiness,” Jaime paused, “I almost left for King’s Landing last night.” 

“Why?” Tyrion peaked over his cup. 

“I thought I had accomplished what I came here to do. I defended the living from the dead and that was it. But then the thought occurred to me that the next time I see her could be across the battlefield. I didn’t want that to be the next time or possibly the last time. So, after the victory feast I went to her chamber. I was half drunk, so was she...I think. It’s hard to tell with Brienne,” Jaime sipped his wine, “And then afterwards, it felt like an unspoken profession.” 

Tyrion looked puzzled, “Did I miss the part where you decided to leave?”

“I felt as though I had to go back to Cersei,” Jaime explained, “It was what I always did. But, as I was saddling up the horse Brienne found me. I thought she might cry or plead or something. She didn’t, in fact she offered to help me finish my preparations.” 

Tyrion laughed. Jaime smiled into his cup, “I didn’t think there was a life beyond of Cersei. I know I chose to love her at one time, but she felt inevitable as well. And then, I almost died and lost my hand and Brienne was there. She saved me and helped to redirect me into being a better man. Gods know she’d never just do it for me.” 

“She’s no man’s prop, that’s for certain,” the younger Lannister said thoughtfully. 

Jaime hummed in agreement, “I had a dream last night, I don’t know where it came from. It’s definitely not of this life. But, I was sitting in a keep of my own by the hearth. I was reading to a little girl, maybe four or five. It felt natural, even the reading part. She was mine, but her eyes were a deep blue...like...” 

“See, keeping you out of Brienne’s bed tonight might give you that dream in reality someday,” Tyrion teased. 

“I still hate reading aloud or otherwise,” Jaime admitted, “Even after I figured it out, watching you when you were my age devour any books you could filled me with jealousy.” 

“My one upper hand on you. Well, two now,” the younger Lannister laughed. 

Jaime shook his head with a smile, and looked into the fire. After a beat, Tyrion piped up, curiosity in his eyes, “So, how is she?” 

“That is also none of your concern,” Jaime replied shooting his brother a look. 

Before Tyrion could respond, his door opened and Brienne entered, “I’m sorry, my lords. A sellsword by the name of Lord Bronn of the Blackwater has requested an audience with you.” 

“Requested?” Tyrion asked in disbelief. 

“I found him trying to sneak through the inner courtyard,” Brienne sighed, holding Bronn by the scruff of his doublet, “When I asked what he was doing, he said he had a message for the Lannisters.”

“You used to be more impressive,” Jaime commented. 

“So were you,” Bronn shrugged. 

“Will you accept his request?” Brienne asked. 

“Yes, thank you, Ser Brienne,” Tyrion answer, waving him in. 

Brienne released Bronn from her grasp. He turned to her, “You’re a knight?” 

“And you were made a lord, so clearly anything is possible,” she replied coolly. 

“So it seems. What about my, uh,” Bronn asked. 

“Oh, your crossbow?” Brienne pointedly looked at the Lannisters, “You’ll get that back upon your departure from Winterfell.” 

“Your crossbow?” Jaime asked. 

“Some kind of irony, eh?” Bronn shot back. 

Brienne gave one final look to Jaime before leaving, “My lords.” 

After the door closed behind him, Bronn looked to Jaime and then back to the door, “So you’ve finally fucked her, huh? What’s it like? Never been with a woman who could beat me in combat. Must be exhilarating.” 

“Why did you come with a crossbow, Bronn?” Tyrion got up from his chair. 

“You and your fucking family,” Bronn sighed as he walked over and pour himself a hefty cup of wine, “You’re all a bunch of golden cunts.” 

“That’s not an answer,” Jaime stood. 

Bronn downed his wine in a few big gulps, “And your metal hand is worth more than you are, dead or alive.” 

“So that’s what this is about,” Tyrion cocked his head to the side, “You remember our bargain, don’t you Bronn?” 

“Whatever someone offers me to kill you, you’ll pay double. Aye, I remember,” Bronn nodded, “What if that person is your sister?”

“She’s never really hid her contempt for you,” Jaime commented. 

“She wants your gilded head too, and you haven’t offered to pay me double,” Bronn added, “I believe treason was the word her cupbearer Qyburn used.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t go to King’s Landing alone,” Tyrion looking over to his brother as he motioned for them to sit. 

“So, what did our lovely sister promise you,” Tyrion inquired. 

Bronn put his feet up, “Well, I have a cartload of gold for starters.” 

“So you want two cartloads then?” Jaime sighed. 

“Aye,” Bronn poured himself more wine, “Mmm, nothing like a Dornish summer red.”

“Bronn,” Tyrion called, growing irritated. 

“She also promised me Riverrun,” Bronn said between sips. 

Tyrion eyed the cutthroat curiously, “And you took her at her word?” 

“No, and after seeing those fucking dragons I’m betting on the Dragon Queen in spades,” Bronn replied. 

Jaime and Tyrion shared a glance, the younger man cleared his throat, “So, double Riverrun? How about being lord of Highgarden?” 

“Highgarden?” Jaime asked incredulously. 

“As if your family wasn’t started by someone who could kill a fucker in one blow,” Bronn said dismissively. 

“No one will fall in line for you,” Jaime challenged. 

Bronn pulled a small dagger from under his doublet, with a mere flick of his wrist, he buried the dagger deep into the wooden beam behind Jaime, “I only need one Lannister, and you aren’t the hand of the Queen.” 

“So, Highgarden then?” Tyrion said after a moment. 

“I have your word?” Bronn asked, standing up and retrieved the dagger.

“Yes,” Tyrion nodded. 

“Good, try your best to live. I don’t want to have to renegotiate with the Targaryen girl once this all over,” Bronn called over his shoulder as he left. 

“Bronn of the Blackwater, Lord of the Reach,” Jaime said in disbelief. 

The younger Lannister put his head into his hand, “Well, it’s better than being dead, isn’t it?” 

Jaime nodded, if only out of astonishment. 

He left his brother’s quarters and made his way towards the lord’s tower. It was earlier than when he would take this walk, but his suspicion was partially clouded by wine. He passed the spiral staircase leading to Sansa’s quarters and soon found himself in front of Brienne’s door. Jaime hesitated, should he knock? No, they professed their love for each other right? But, they’re not bound in marriage and this isn’t his chamber. Could they even marry? Jaime swallowed hard, and walked into the room. 

“Brienne?” he called softly. 

“Ser Jaime?” Brienne stood up from the table by the hearth, her formality guard up not knowing who else was entering her room. 

“It’s just me,” Jaime closed the door behind him. 

Brienne breathed a sigh of relief, “Good.” 

They sat across from one another on the bed together, cross legged. Jaime took her hand into his, “My sister tried to have me killed.” 

“She should have chosen a more scrupulous man,” she said with a half smile. 

“It’s been taken care of though,” Jaime assured her. 

“Good,” Brienne looked at her hand in his, “Sansa named me Master-at-Arms.” 

“The castle has never been more secure than in your hands,” Jaime beamed with pride. 

“It also means I will be in Winterfell until my last living day,” Brienne’s voice was small. 

“I know,” Jaime nodded. 

Brienne gave him a curious look, “But you hate the North.” 

“I hear it grows on you,” he smiled.

“We could have a quiet life somewhere, maybe the Free Cities. There are small islands around Tarth we could farm into liveable land,” Brienne daydreamed. 

Jaime let out a deep, belly laugh, “You and I are many things, and together we have many skills and aptitudes, but farmer and housewife are not one of them.” 

“I know,” Brienne sighed, “but, it’s a nice thought.” 

“It is,” Jaime agreed, “However, you are the honorable Ser Brienne and I’d sooner die than let you be given the name oathbreaker.” 

“You’re a good man,” Brienne smiled. 

“For you, I try,” Jaime replied quietly.

Brienne stretched, her legs now placed on either side of Jaime, “What will you do?” 

“I’m certain you’ll need help whipping these Northerns into capable soldiers,” Jaime laid back, “And who better than by the best knight in Westeros?” 

“They already have me,” Brienne laughed. 

“You want to have a go tomorrow, Ser?” his eyes creased with laughter. 

Brienne maneuvered so she straddled him, “I rather have a go now.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took longer to update than anticipated! How about that finale, huh?

Grey skies hung over Winterfell, possibly an ominous sign of the days to come. The march to King’s Landing was three days out and no one had seen the sun since the Battle of Ice and Fire. 

Jaime stood under a covered bridge watching Brienne lead another training exercise. He had run a few drills with the men as well. Sparring with the soldiers was reflexive, Jaime hardly had to give it a thought. But, he knew his muscles would ache the next day. 

Brienne had taken a step back and allowed Podrick to finish running drills with the soldiers. She spoke with Lord Royce and the other officers. He could see the confidence grow within her as the conversation went along. 

Sansa strolled up to him, “Ser Jaime.” 

“Lady Stark,” Jaime dutifully bowed his head. 

“I’m sure Ser Brienne told you about her new appointment,” Sansa watched the practice. 

“She has,” Jaime smiled. 

“Then I should expect you to stay indefinitely then?” she looked at him. 

“With your permission, of course,” Jaime replied. 

“Of course,” Sansa agreed, “In fact, I believe there’s a position for you to fill as well.” 

Jaime was caught off guard, “Pardon?” 

“I need someone with military experience and knowledge,” Sansa began, “Both Jon and Brienne are smart, and very capable fighters but they’re not seasoned tacticians. You could be an invaluable resource.” 

‘And keep me under your watchful eye,’ Jaime thought. 

Jaime looked down for a moment, considering the proposition, “Have you told your brother of this plan?” 

“I want you as my advisor, not Jon’s,” Sansa answered. 

“Better to beg for forgiveness than permission,” Jaime hummed. 

“That’s for he and I to discuss,” Sansa replied. 

Jaime nodded, “It would be my honor to serve you.” 

“You would be serving the Starks,” Sansa’s brow quirked up, “Not House Lannister.” 

“I’m not that man anymore,” Jaime said quietly. 

Sansa gave him a small smile, “You’re a better man for it now.” 

“Thank you, my lady,” Jaime bowed his head. 

“We’ll be meeting in the afternoon for the war council,” Sansa added as she left to attend to other duties. 

Jaime remained until the training exercise was completed and the men broke for their noontime meal. After removing her armor, Brienne ascended the stairs to the covered bridge. She came up next to him, blotting the sweat from her brow. 

“I will be joining you for the war council,” Jaime announced. 

“Do you think that’s wise?” Brienne was caught off guard. 

“By the invitation of Lady Stark,” Jaime clarified, “I’ve accepted her offer to be her Master of War.” 

Surprise was plastered on the knight’s face, she smiled after a moment, “I think it will be a fitting role for you.” 

“I certainly hope so. I can’t be your clandestine mistress forever,” Jaime laughed. 

Brienne shook her head, amused, “I’m going to the clean up in the bath house before going to noon meal.” 

“You’ll have it to yourself,” Jaime replied innocently as he followed her to the lord’s tower. 

“Yes, everyone will be eating in the great hall. I suspect even the hallways will be empty,” Brienne glanced at him. 

Jaime’s eyes lit up upon realizing her inference, “Oh, yes. Empty for more than an hour, I would suspect. I believe I’ll join you.” 

“As you should,” a devilish grin flashed across her face, “Ser Jaime.” 

The moment his title and name crossed Brienne’s lips, a familiar longing stirred within the other knight. If it weren’t freezing and midday, Jaime would have her in the stables. 

Their pace quicken, in lockstep with one another. They passed through the abandoned hall of the lord’s tower and adjacent chambers. The bath house door opened with a bang and closed just as quickly. 

Hands began to unclasp doublets and pull at the laces of shirts and breeches. Brienne pulled off their boots and threw them to the side. Jaime turned the spigot for the farthest granite tub and perfumed the water with herby oils. Sliding into the water, Jaime gave Brienne a hand as she stepped down into the tub. 

Jaime brushed back her golden hair from her eyes. He kissed her lips softly and then picked up a small washing brush. He foamed it with a floral soap and began to wash her. He worked slowly but diligently and kissed each bit of clean skin. His hands lingered over her breasts and between her legs. Each time, a gasp came from Brienne’s lips and fanned the fire of wanting within him. 

Taking the brush from his hand, Brienne pour the oil wash over his shoulders and chest. Her eyes followed the path the brush traced over his skin. The last time they bathed together was at Harrenhal. It was the first time she saw all of him. His well won scars and tone muscles shown prominent. The depth of him, his character and good nature, weren’t so prominent by his own doing. 

Brienne ran her hand over his face, wiping away a fleck of dirt from his cheek. Jaime kissed her palm and then lips as he pulled her close to him. Brienne could feel him, hard against her stomach. Guiding them to the edge of the tub, Jaime pulled himself up and perched on the ledge. 

Climbing up, Brienne’s legs straddled his as she slid him into her slick warmth. Jaime’s head lull back and rested against the stone wall. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring the moment. Jaime kept Brienne steady in the crook of his shortened arm as his free hand cupped her breast. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Brienne’s body rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her breath growing ragged. With each roll of her hips, she felt him fill her again. It was a fullness she wanted over and over. Jaime nipped and sucked her breasts, each action cause a gasp or moan to escape Brienne’s lips. 

“Jaime,” she whispered, breathless. 

“Yes?” he grinned, his eyes half lidded and dark with lust. 

“I’m going to…” her words trailed off. 

Jaime’s hand slipped between them and stroked her bud coaxing her ever closer to the deep, but fleeting pleasure. Brienne’s body rose and fell one final time, her moan muffled against Jaime’s neck. 

He lifted their entangled bodies up, close to his own sweet culmination, crossed the tub and laid Brienne’s quivering body on the warm granite floor. Jaime’s thumb continued to swipe over her bud, sending pleasurable jolts through her body. Brienne’s cries came out as mewls, helpless and sated. 

Jaime buried himself deep and hard within her. The sounds of their bodies connecting echoed throughout the bathhouse. He couldn’t get enough of her. His final thrust was met with a long groan as he finished within her. 

He nearly collapsed next to Brienne. His gulped down lungfuls of air, trying to catch his breath. Brienne’s eyes were closed with a contented smile on her face. Their legs dangled in the water as their senses slowly returned. 

“I wish it were nightfall. We could just retire to our chambers,” Brienne sighed. 

“And yet, we have a war to plan,” Jaime sat up. 

The pair dried off and wrapped themselves in housecoats. Quickly, they moved to their quarters and dressed. Although they missed the noon meal, the knights were able to snag a thick slice of black bread slathered with fresh butter and a hefty cut of peppered bacon. 

Upon entering the war room, Brienne found that Jaime had fell behind. Turning around she saw him cautiously enter. Thankfully for Jaime, they were the first to arrive. Sansa soon followed after and the two knights flanked her on other either side. 

As the other members of the council filed into the room, Jaime received a wave of curious and disgruntled glances, if not outright glares. Brienne shot him a reassuring glance after each blow. 

Jon and Daenerys entered last and stood at the head of the table, both left lingering stares at the older Lannister. 

Varys stepped forward to begin the meeting, “My little birds tell me Cersei is bringing the populace of King’s Landing into the castle walls. She assumes you won’t attack the innocents.” 

“Are they in the castle proper or just within its boundaries?” Daenerys asked. 

“So far, just within the walls. I’m having my little birds monitor the situation and if anything is to change, I’ll be the first to know,” Varys answered. 

“And what of the Golden Company?” Jon interjected. 

“A small portion of the forces are arming Euron Greyjoy’s fleet. The majority are supplementing the Lannister army,” Varys explained, “I can’t say the Golden Company forces will be as effective as seasoned sailors.” 

“And what of the ships, are they still barricading the Blackwater?” Davos questioned. 

“No, I am told that Euron is taking the majority of his fleet to take Dragonstone,” Varys explained.

Jaime’s head perked up, the machinations of a plan manifesting in his head. He stepped forward and cleared his throat, “If I may…” 

“Ser Jaime?” Daenerys’ brow quirked. 

Jaime pointed on the map, to Dragonstone, “I think we can take out the Greyjoy fleet quickly as he sails to Dragonstone without having to diverge our foot troops from marching south.” 

He paused and looked up, seeing his had the room captivated, “Using the remainder of the fleet, sail down to Dragonstone with the two dragons flying ahead to scout out where the ships are. From there, we launch an aerial assault and any surviving ships will be dealt with by our ships. After, Jon can take the dragon to join the march. We’ll have King’s Landing surrounded by land with our soldiers, by sea with the Dornish ships holding the Blackwater Bay, and air with the dragons. Cersei will have to surrender.”

“That’s bloody brilliant,” Ser Davos nearly gasped. 

The room hummed in agreement. Daenerys nodded, “What if she doesn’t surrender?” 

“I can talk her into surrendering,” Jaime assured them. 

Daenerys met his eyes, “And if you can’t?” 

“I’ll kill her. If she must die, then it should be by my hands,” Jaime’s voice never wavered. 

“And how do you plan on getting into the Red Keep?” Jon inquired, almost incredulously. 

“The passage from the beach to the Red Keep,” Tyrion spoke up, “Ser Davos could you get us there?” 

“Aye, I can,” the Onion Knight nodded. 

“Then it’s settled,” Tyrion said, adjourning the meeting. 

The council disbanded and filed out of the room, save for the Stark children and blonde knights. Jon cut off Sansa by the door. 

“We need to have a word,” Jon said, “Alone.” 

Sansa nodded to Brienne and Jaime and they took their leave. 

“You too, Arya,” Jon added. 

“No, I think I’ll stay,” the young Stark replied as she closed the door. 

Jon rubbed his face, tired and frustrated, “You brought Jaime Lannister into the fold, to our war room!” 

“Do not raise your voice to me. He’s advising me on the matters of war, it’s an area I lack knowledge in,” Sansa said, measured. 

“You could have come to me, Ser Davos, or even bloody Tyrion Lannister,” Jon threw his arms up, “Anyone but Jaime Lannister.”

“He’s pledged his sword to Ser Brienne. He’s loyal to her,” Sansa argued, “He’s serving me so he’s serving House Stark.”

Arya and Sansa shared a look as Jon paced, “But not the queen.” 

“Is a ceremonial bending of the knee that important to you? To the would be queen?” Sansa shook her head, “He’s the one person we have with the most military experience. We can use him.”

“Daenerys is the queen,” Jon reminded his sister. 

“That was your choice. Not mine,” Sansa’s voice was ice. 

Jon stepped closer to her, placing his hand on her cheek. His eyes pleading, “Sansa, please. I want Winterfell to be strong just as much as you. But, it will be nothing if we’re not a united front against Cersei.” 

“I know that,” Sansa swatted away her brother’s hand, “I’m not a child, I understand what’s at stake.” 

“Then you should have told me Jaime Lannister was going to be at this meeting or have any knowledge at all of what’s going on,” Jon’s voice became authoritative, “Making this kind of appointment with someone with the family name of Lannister could be considered treason. I cannot promise protection from something like this.” 

Sansa straightened up, “And I am the Lady of Winterfell, who I keep as my counsel is of my choosing.” 

“It is in your right to have whomever you want for counsel, but, Sansa it wounds me to have you not tell me. I’m not saying you need my permission, far from it. It feels as if you no longer trust me,” the hurt was written plainly on his face. 

“I trust you,” Sansa assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “This isn’t about distrust between us.” 

“You don’t trust Daenerys,” Jon said flatly. 

“I don’t,” her tone was just as frank, “Not her or her family.” 

“She’s not what her family was,” Jon paused, “She’s the second Targaryen I’ve know to be steadfast and good.” 

“And history has known centuries of Targaryens who weren’t,” Sansa was far from convinced. 

“This hesitance you have about Daenerys is personal from where it comes from I cannot say,” Jon paused, his voice softer now, “For me I ask you to sit with her and try to get to know one another.” 

“I will meet with her, but have no expectations about a new sisterhood,” Sansa relented. 

“Thank you, Sansa,” Jon said appreciatively. 

Sansa nodded and Jon left. Turning to her younger sister who had been uncharacteristically silent the entire time. Sansa gave Arya a quizzical look, “Were you here just to watch us argue?” 

Arya shook her head, “Do you really trust Jaime Lannister?” 

“Yes,” the older Stark nodded, “But you don’t.” 

“I don’t trust him to kill Cersei,” Arya said coolly, “But, not because he’d go against his word.” 

“Then why?” Sansa was confused. 

“If it was us, and you were my worst enemy, I don’t think I could kill my sister either,” Arya replied.


End file.
